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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869562">Co-Workers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418'>cmk418</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:40:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869562</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm's relationship with the rest of his team</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright/Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Co-Workers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How ‘bout a cup of coffee?” the medical examiner asked.</p><p>“I think I reached my limit on the caffeine today.”</p><p>“Oh, okay.” She started to back away from his desk.</p><p>“But what about dinner?” Malcolm asked.</p><p>“Dinner?” Her eyes got big as saucers.</p><p>“Unless you’ve got a fresh corpse to examine. We could do that instead.”</p><p>“No. No fresh corpses. Dinner. Dinner would be fine.”</p><p>“When’s your shift over?”</p><p>“Umm… anytime. I could be ready now if you wanted to.”</p><p>“It’s eleven a.m.”</p><p>“So that’s a no?”</p><p>“Why don’t we say six o’clock?”</p><p>“Sure. Okay. Sounds great.” She walked away mumbling  something about “not expecting to get any work done now.”</p><p>Malcolm smiled. Today was turning out to be a good day.</p><p>Seven hours later, Malcolm waltzed into the ME’s office. “Ready to go?”</p><p>Edrisa nodded. </p><p>“There’s this great Asian fusion place by my apartment. Is that okay? I don’t know. Maybe everything you cook is Asian fusion, because, well… I’m sorry, just ignore me.”</p><p>“I was hoping for some Asian fusion tonight,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.</p><p>“Or we could just see what’s in my fridge,” Malcolm said.</p><p>For all of her flirtation, Edrisa was a little put off by the restraints on his bed. Malcolm tried to explain about the night terrors, but it was hard to do so when the medical examiner was easing her way out of the room. </p><p>Malcolm shook his head. Edrisa wasn’t for him. There was too much light there. He didn’t want to expose her to the darkness that lurked inside of him.</p><p>It had been a particularly bad day at work. There hadn’t been a murder in three days and Malcolm was starting to get a little stir crazy. Dani took one look at him in his agitated state and said, “I’m taking you home.” When he started to protest, she said, “That crap may work on Gil, but it doesn’t on me. You’re being a distraction.”</p><p>They drove to his apartment in silence. She rode the elevator with him to his floor. “Thank you, Detective,” Malcolm said, once they reached his door.</p><p>“Ask me in, Bright,” said Dani, crowding into his space.</p><p>“Would you… would you like to come in?”</p><p>Dani responded by reaching for his hand with the key and guiding it into the lock.</p><p>They fucked on the couch until Malcolm was exhausted. Dani didn’t linger- apparently, cudding wasn’t her style. She moved off of him, fastened her weapons belt, and said, “Don’t forget to lock up behind me.” Malcolm nodded weakly at her, followed her to the door, then somehow managed to collapse in his own bed.</p><p>Tired as he was, the night terrors still seized him. When he walked out of his room the next morning to see Jessica sitting on the couch, going through his unread mail, he wondered if he had dreamt the whole encounter.</p><p> </p><p>A little bonding with the rest of his team was in order, so Malcolm invited Gil and JT over for a friendly game of poker. From there the game devolved into strip poker- Gil had lost his left shoe, JT was without a shirt, and Malcolm was still fully clothed and staring at JT. “You trying to read me, profiler?” JT asked.</p><p>“No, actually, I was just mentally completing your tattoo.”</p><p>“It’s done.”</p><p>“If you say so. I think a pinwheel could make a lovely complement to the artwork you have there.”</p><p>“A pinwheel. You mean those paper things that kids blow at and they spin around and around.”</p><p>“No. It’s a wheel with pins. Here, I’ll show you.” Malcolm jumped up from the table and headed in the direction of his bedroom.</p><p>“Malcolm,” Gil said, and Malcolm froze.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, Did you not want to see?”</p><p>JT glanced over at Gil. “You’ll be here, right?” he whispered.</p><p>Gil nodded.</p><p>“Bring it on, Bright,” JT said. </p><p>Malcolm disappeared into his room for a moment, then came back carrying a flat wooden box. He placed the box on the table and opened the latch. Inside the box was a nicely organized display of surgical instruments. “I’m a collector, not following in the family footsteps.”</p><p>“Good to know,” said JT, casting a worried look at Gil.</p><p>Malcolm withdrew a piece of equipment that looked a bit like a sawblade in miniature, affixed to a thin piece of steel. “This is a pinwheel, also know as a Wartenberg wheel. Doctors use it to test nerve reactions. Other people use it as a form of foreplay.”</p><p>“People get up to some weird shit.”</p><p>Malcolm rolled the wheel across the back of his hand, a red line blooming in its wake. “It’s really not much different than your girlfriend’s nails scratching up your back. Want to give it a try? Wait. I have a spare.” He rummaged through the box again and found a smaller version of the instrument. He handed it over to JT who stared at it for a moment. “I sterilize everything after use,” said Malcolm.</p><p>“Of course, you do.” JT shrugged and then rolled the wheel over his left bicep. “Doesn’t feel like much of anything.”</p><p>“You can increase the pressure,” Malcolm said, smiling.</p><p>“I don’t think…” Gil began, just as JT let out a hiss.</p><p>The three of them looked at JT’s arm where a few drops of blood had welled up in a perfect line.</p><p>“I can get you a bandage,” volunteered Malcolm.</p><p>“Don’t bother,” said JT, placing the pinwheel back on top of the table next to the deck of cards. “I probably should be going.”</p><p>“We’ll have the next poker night at my place,” said Gil.</p><p>“I look forward to it,” replied Malcolm as he walked with them to the door.</p><p>Later that night, he thought about the drops of blood coming to the surface on JT’s skin. That thought lulled him to sleep and, for the first time in a long time, Malcolm didn’t dream.</p>
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